"earthsong" poems - Hello Poetry

Stand beside me as the light falls in. Hold me close as the air takes wing. Stay right there as the sky turns grey. Take my hand as this earthsong fades. All I need is you.

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Jan 13, 2016

Jan 13, 2016 at 2:13 PM UTC

sydney-carter

All I Need Is You

Stand beside me as the light falls in. Hold me close as the air takes wing. Stay right there as the sky turns grey. Take my hand as this earthsong fades. All I need is you.

9

There is an old, cherry oak Grandfather clock perched atop the hearth of my girlhood. In the early days, I never knew the absence of its ticking. Every room, every season, every dream— superimposed over a perpetual rhythmic symphony. Tick. Tick. Tick. Until one day, many moons ago, I found a garden filled with garden sounds. An Earthsong played all through the summer, and as my limbs grew, so too did the space between that clock and me. So too, did the choir of humanity in my ears. These days, I have sewn seeds in a lifetime of gardens, and I have heard each and every hymn. The harmony of the world clawed its way into my heart like a river-carved canyon and never stopped singing. But sometimes, in the stillness of the night, it fills my spirit once again, that clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. In scrapbooks and old letters. Tick. Tick. Tick. In a broken silver locket and the remnants of a poem written long ago. Tick. Tick. In the arms of the girl I love. Tick. There is an old, cherry oak Grandfather clock perched atop the hearth of my girlhood. I am a woman now, but I listen for the ticking still.

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May 1, 2025

May 1, 2025 at 6:34 PM UTC

eve891822

Grandfather Clock

There is an old, cherry oak Grandfather clock perched atop the hearth of my girlhood. In the early days, I never knew the absence of its ticking. Every room, every season, every dream— superimposed over a perpetual rhythmic symphony. Tick. Tick. Tick. Until one day, many moons ago, I found a garden filled with garden sounds. An Earthsong played all through the summer, and as my limbs grew, so too did the space between that clock and me. So too, did the choir of humanity in my ears. These days, I have sewn seeds in a lifetime of gardens, and I have heard each and every hymn. The harmony of the world clawed its way into my heart like a river-carved canyon and never stopped singing. But sometimes, in the stillness of the night, it fills my spirit once again, that clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. In scrapbooks and old letters. Tick. Tick. Tick. In a broken silver locket and the remnants of a poem written long ago. Tick. Tick. In the arms of the girl I love. Tick. There is an old, cherry oak Grandfather clock perched atop the hearth of my girlhood. I am a woman now, but I listen for the ticking still.

4

Once a tiny bud Who grew outside of her protected liquid garden Into a flowerburst of colors Ultra-hued light A taste of the divine flowing from the heaven of her scent as I hold her and inhale I feel my own creation and hers mingling, with the beat of my womb. Each day, so many colors, growing in intensity Each day so much depth unfurling from within And with that earthsong, song of whales and mermaids, a gorgeous iridescence That bestows light upon me With its transcendant holiness I know I am thus twice blessed: A starsong of delight Who blesses and re-blesses her own miracle of creation. My own joyful garden, both in And out of water Able to burst up and out, Seed by seed by seed. And I wish to explode with it. For now, I take a breath. I have. I hold. We glow.

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Oct 1, 2015

Oct 1, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC

lora-lee

Miracle

Once a tiny bud Who grew outside of her protected liquid garden Into a flowerburst of colors Ultra-hued light A taste of the divine flowing from the heaven of her scent as I hold her and inhale I feel my own creation and hers mingling, with the beat of my womb. Each day, so many colors, growing in intensity Each day so much depth unfurling from within And with that earthsong, song of whales and mermaids, a gorgeous iridescence That bestows light upon me With its transcendant holiness I know I am thus twice blessed: A starsong of delight Who blesses and re-blesses her own miracle of creation. My own joyful garden, both in And out of water Able to burst up and out, Seed by seed by seed. And I wish to explode with it. For now, I take a breath. I have. I hold. We glow.

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